Goddess of Mischief
by Team Damon
Summary: "Is it true that you have a female form?" she asked. "Possibly," he grinned. "What have you heard of it?" "For one, that you make a particularly breathtakingly beautiful woman. And also that you sort of... broke Fandral's heart in that form." Bonus chapter for Ruin.


**A/N: So this is... well, this one of the odder things I've written, possibly the oddest thing ever, and I apologize in advance for the weirdness that you're about to read. Except I don't apologize, because I regret nothing :p This little slice of weirdness was born due to a line in a chapter of Ruin that inspired midnightwings96 to request this for a bonus chapter. The number of the chapter eludes me, but it's while Loki and Sif are dueling and Fandral wistfully recalls how Loki in female form was the most stunning thing he'd ever seen... something along those lines. I've added other lines as hints since then, and now BAM, here we have an adventure with Lady Loki :D I would warn for slash, but it isn't really slash... although it sort of is. Honestly, I don't know what to call this, so I'm just gonna shut up and see what you guys think of it :p my thanks to midnightwings96 for helping me with this and giving me ideas and making sure it got written when I was being lazy and unmotivated :D she is da best. So anyway... please review! :)**

Late one seemingly unremarkable night, Aemilia lay under emerald green silken sheets and smiled at the way her bedmate lounged carelessly above the sheets, as if he meant to further display to her eyes the body that had spent the last hour tangled with hers. She lay on her front, head resting on her arms that lay crossed over her pillow, and her mind was blissfully untroubled but contemplative as she looked him over.

In terms of physicality, he was quite open - he always had been with her. She knew his body nearly as well as she knew her own, knew his likes and dislikes, knew how to please him as well as tease him, but when it came to his mind, she had only scratched the tip of the surface.

Living at the palace, she heard things about him. Stories that had become almost legendary of his mischief, pranks, and misadventures. Some of them were lighthearted and humorous, but others had a darker undertone that made his rumored actions seem almost cruel. And there were still others that merely confused her and made no sense.

He caught her gaze as he laid there, head propped slightly against his dark headboard, and he grinned at her lazily. "You are staring, darling."

"It is difficult not to," she smiled. "But I am also... wondering."

"What about?" he asked.

"You," she shrugged, still smiling.

"Tell me how I may enlighten you," he said, shifting to his side, closer to her.

"I've heard some... strange things about you," she said, still smiling a little bit. "I'm not sure what to believe."

"If you are referring to my supposed... exploits in the form of a mare, that is a work of mortal fiction that my brother will not allow to be forgotten."

She furrowed her brows. "What?"

"Never mind," Loki said, possibly relieved to not have to deal with that particular story. "Ask of me what you wish."

"Is it true that you have a female form?"

"Possibly," he grinned, propping up on his elbow and resting his head on his palm. "What have you heard of it?"

"For one, that you make a particularly breathtakingly beautiful woman," she said. "And also that you sort of... broke Fandral's heart in that form."

His grin widened. "That's a bit of an overdramatic way to describe it."

"Describe what?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Do you really wish to know?"

She considered his question for a moment, suddenly unsure of her answer. "... I think at this point, I must know."

He smiled, and it made her more nervous. "As you wish."

* * *

Fandral sighed, half-heartedly swinging his sword through the air towards Volstagg's axe, then spinning around to block Sif's oncoming attack. He was not moving with his usual glee, nor was he laughing at every turn, as was also usual.

Thor saw it as he watched from afar, as plainly as Sif saw it up close. Fandral, who was always so cheerful and in a nearly perpetual good mood, appeared to be depressed.

More evidence was lent to this theory when Volstagg disarmed him of his sword a moment later, with much less effort than it usually took. Fandral sighed again when it happened, not saying a word as the others stopped and waited for him to pick it back up.

Sif was the first to speak. "Has something happened, Fandral? You seem... strange."

"Yes," Volstagg concurred, "today you seem far more 'Grim' than 'Dashing', I daresay."

"What is all of this about?" Thor asked, he and Hogun reaching the others where they stood in the arena.

"Nothing," Fandral sighed, placing his sword back into its sheath at his side. "Truly, it is nothing. Carry on, my friends."

"Nonsense," Thor said. "What troubles you, Fandral?"

The blonde warrior sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking up into the sky dramatically as he said, "I find myself bored as of late."

Even Hogun looked confused. "Bored?"

"Yes, bored!" Fandral replied.

"Bored of what?" Thor asked.

Fandral looked almost sorrowful as he looked at the Prince and answered, "The maidens of this realm."

Sif immediately rolled her eyes and groaned. "Please tell me this is a jest, Fandral."

"If only it were!" he replied as Thor shared a grin with Volstagg. "I've not seen a new face in decades! Our women are all lovely, to be sure, but lately I have found myself... well... bored."

"And you have become _depressed_ over this?" Sif asked incredulously.

"Would Volstagg not grow depressed if a famine were upon us and his meals were rationed?" Fandral retorted as Volstagg gasped in horror at such a concept. "Would Thor not grow depressed if his hammer no longer obeyed his hand? Would Hogun not grow depressed if he was forced to appear cheerful for a day or two? Would -"

"But Fandral," Thor chuckled, "what other realm can boast of maidens as fair and pleasing as our own? Surely you cannot have had them _all_."

Fandral opened his mouth, then closed it and raised an eyebrow. Thor's grin faded, and Sif's eyes widened.

"That's impossible," Thor muttered.

"And repulsive," Sif added.

"Well, obviously I've not bedded _every_ last woman in this realm," Fandral sighed. "But let it suffice to say that I fear I've sort of... run out of new prospects until others come of age."

Sif groaned again, and Volstagg commented, "This is why you should find a good woman to marry and settle down with, as I have - conquests always come to an end, and there is nothing better than coming home to a big, beautiful woman and an equally beautiful feast on your table."

Fandral scoffed. "If I have grown bored of Asgard's finest maidens, how would I not grow bored of a wife?"

"Perhaps," Thor mused, "it is time to take a journey off-world to raise your spirits. You are fond of the maidens of Alfheim, yes?"

Fandral nodded reluctantly. "I suppose..."

"Then we shall journey there and put an end to this foolishness!" Thor proclaimed, thumping Fandral on the back as Sif shook her head in exasperation. "I shall not allow my friend to grow so gloomy simply because he's run out of new maidens to woo."

"Or perhaps he's simply not looking in the right places."

All five heads turned at the startling sound of a feminine, strange voice cutting through the air. All five pairs of eyes widened at the sight of a woman, breathtaking and completely unfamiliar, strolling towards the arena with such grace and confidence as if she owned the ground beneath her feet.

She was tall, even taller than Sif, and her hair was long and free-flowing to her waist, as dark as the blackest night. She had porcelain skin and enormous eyes the color of emeralds, defined cheekbones that were to die for, full lips painted a deep shade of berry and a body that nearly upstaged her face. Gold armor sat atop a sleeveless midnight black tunic that hugged her almost exaggerated curves, flowing past her hips and ending at thighs covered in leggings such a dark shade of green that they at first appeared black. Black leather boots rose up to her knees, small-heeled for practicality, though they managed to make her mile-long legs appear even longer still.

In her hand, tipped with long black-painted nails, was a long golden spear that appeared as deadly as it was beautiful. On her upper arms sat bejeweled golden arm bands, matching golden bracers that protected her forearms. On her face, a little confident smirk sat on her lips as her eyes took the group in.

Fandral was fairly certain that he was looking at the personification of Valhalla.

Naturally, as all of the men were far too befuddled to properly think for the moment - even the usually quite level-headed Hogun - Sif stepped forward to meet the mystery woman. "Who are you and from where do you hail?"

"Is that any way to greet a fellow shieldmaiden?" she replied, barely sparing Sif a glance as she swayed past her.

Sif was about to snap back when Thor sprang into action, quickly throwing himself in front of the woman and grasping her hand in his. "My apologies, my lady. I am Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard, and -"

She snatched her hand away, cooly interrupting him. "Yes, I know who you are. And I've no wish to have my hand slobbered on."

Thor gaped at the stinging rejection. Fandral had not taken a breath since the lady first came into view, and he was still staring with a slightly open mouth when she sauntered beyond Thor, closer to him.

They shared a look, and Fandral could feel himself being sized up in her ridiculously gorgeous eyes. Sif's voice broke his revelry.

"Who are you to speak to the future King of Asgard in such a manner?" she demanded before repeating her first question. "Who are you and from where do you hail?"

Finally, the woman looked away from Fandral, and he suddenly sucked in a deep breath, realizing he hadn't been breathing the entire time.

"I mean no disrespect," the lady's silken voice drawled. It was almost melodic. "I mean only to share a good fight with Asgard's finest warriors, if they will indulge me."

"_I_ will certainly indulge you."

Sif looked at Fandral with wide eyes, and he suddenly realized he'd actually said that out loud. "I mean - of course, we are at your service, my lady." The lady grinned at him and he nearly swooned like a maiden in the company of a man for the first time.

"Are you of Asgard?" Thor asked, still bewildered by her flippant treatment.

"I am," she replied, keeping her eyes on Fandral as she addressed the Prince.

"Why have we never seen you?" Thor asked.

She finally looked away, and Fandral cursed himself silently when he realized he'd been holding his breath again.

"You never looked," she answered simply.

Sif looked around at the men, who were all but useless as they continued to drool over this stranger, so she rolled her eyes for what felt like the millionth time and grasped her own spear as she walked swiftly past the woman. "You want a fight, then so be it. Show us that you're worthy to stand in our arena."

The lady's eyes flashed with amusement as she glanced at Fandral one last time before following Sif. Fandral watched her go, finding the back of her to be just as pleasing to the eye as her front, and he grasped Thor's arm as he muttered, "Do not pinch me. If I am dreaming, I do not wish to awaken."

Thor was about to laugh and reply when a voice behind him cut him off. "Who is _that_?"

Thor glanced over to find his brother standing behind behind him, looking curiously at the two ladies as they took their stances and readied their weapons. "Loki! I thought you were spending today holed up in your room."

"I came out for a bit of fresh air," Loki shrugged. "Who is that?"

"I do not know," Thor shook his head.

Loki eyed Fandral's hand as it still clutched Thor's arm while the blonde warrior stared longingly at the beautiful stranger. "Are you all right, Fandral?"

"Loki, I may be in love," Fandral replied dramatically.

Loki raised an eyebrow, expertly hiding the smirk trying to grow on his face, and then nodded to Thor. "I will... ah... leave you to whatever _this_ is, brother."

Thor nodded back and said absently, "I've the feeling that I'll have an interesting tale to tell you when this day is done."

"I can't wait," Loki said with a snort, turning and walking away. Nobody noticed his image shimmer and then dissolve into thin air.

Meanwhile, the men watched, transfixed, as the two raven-haired ladies began dueling. Sif was as shocked as they were when the stranger proved herself skilled - Sif didn't land a single blow for what seemed like an eternity, and the other woman moved with an almost sensual grace as she fought back.

Sif even began to think that the woman was actually anticipating all of her moves, as if she'd fought her before and knew how to predict her fighting pattern. But that was impossible.

"She has skill," Thor observed, relieved that Fandral had finally relinquished his hold on his arm.

"She... appears to have many desirable assets," Fandral said dreamily.

Thor watched, puzzled, as Sif and the lady continued to spar, seeming almost equally matched, and the timing of this stranger's arrival seemed a bit more than peculiar. The fact that she'd spurned him so quickly and without restraint was even more odd. There was something... amiss about this, but he didn't know what it was.

Meanwhile, Fandral suddenly straightened and attempted to collect himself when the two ladies appeared to agree on a draw. Sif wasn't happy with the decision, but she seemed more intent on being done with the stranger than anything, which in itself spoke monuments to just how far her instant dislike went.

Fandral took a deep breath and muttered to Thor from the corner of his mouth, "Wish me luck." Then he was marching off towards the woman with all of the confidence and swagger that he could muster, which was a considerable amount, and smiled as he approached her.

"You are quite skilled, my lady," he said, and she absently rolled her spear in her hand, looking at him with a curious smile. "Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name before I test your skill myself?"

Her smile became a smirk. "My name... hmm. I've a better idea. You can fight me for it. If you win... you shall have my name, as well as my gold for a round of drinks tonight. If I win..." her smirk grew, "I've not decided yet. There are... many possibilities."

Fandral blinked, then grinned at the shameless tone with which she spoke these words. Where had this woman been his whole life? "I wholeheartedly accept your terms."

She grinned back. "Then let us begin."

She struck out at him as soon as he'd withdrawn his sword. He blocked her spear and advanced as she stepped back, willing himself to not fall prey to the distraction of how lovely her long hair looked as it flew about behind her, or just how long and graceful her legs were as she danced around him.

There was something quite dangerous and somehow familiar about the way she moved, but he had no time to pay it much attention as he dodged her blows, trying to find her weak spot. She managed to land a kick or two to his legs but he didn't falter, just as she didn't when his sword struck her spear and knocked it from her grip.

He then grabbed her by her wrist and spun her into his chest, blade held an inch from her throat, and chuckled as she resisted his hold.

"Care for another round?" he asked with a grin, and she turned her head to look up at him. His grin faded just a bit as his eyes fell from hers to her lips, and he stopped breathing again when she leaned in just slightly, her eyes now on his lips as well.

But before they could touch, her elbow connected sharply with his stomach and he grunted in pain, and she snatched his sword with one hand while the other curled into a fist that struck him squarely in the nose. He staggered back and cursed his boundless stupidity, groaning in pain again when a kick to his chest sent him down to the ground.

She knelt over him, the ends of her silky hair tickling his cheeks as she held his own sword across his chest. "I must admit," she gloated, "I expected more from a warrior as legendary as you."

He chuckled, the tips of his outstretched fingers touching something hard and solid. Her spear, he realized.

"My apologies," he grinned. "But you, on the other hand, are everything that I expected."

"Hm," the lady muttered in amusement, withdrawing the sword and rising up to her feet. She looked towards the others as she said, "I suppose I shall have to determine my winnings now. Perhaps -"

She yelped in surprise when her own spear suddenly struck her ankles, sending her down to her back and freeing her grip on the sword at the same time. Fandral laughed and caught the sword as it fell, both weapons in his hands as he knelt over the lady and grinned down at her. "Your name _now_, my lady?"

Her wince faded from her face and she smiled up at him. "Drinks first... my name later."

Fandral sighed theatrically. "If you insist."

* * *

"My friend," Thor laughed, "you ought to slow down on the ale - you will be unconscious on the floor before the lady arrives."

Fandral clutched his mug and sighed, looking around the pub somewhat nervously. "You mean if the lady arrives."

"The night is young. Give her time," Thor replied.

"Can we please discuss something else?" Sif asked, a look of mild distaste on her face. "I don't think I can bear to listen to another moment of talk about this woman."

Volstagg, sitting next to her at their table, widened his eyes and said through a mouthful of pub food, "Do mine eyes deceive me, or is the Lady Sif jealous?"

Thor laughed, and Sif's expression became outraged. "I am nothing of the sort! I am merely sick of hearing about her! I saw nothing special about her and especially nothing that could explain Fandral's current behavior."

Fandral stared forlornly towards the pub's entrance and drained his mug, his free hand supporting his head as he leaned on the table, oblivious to the sad gazes of the pub's female patrons who had been hoping to gain his attention. He was also oblivious to how Sif was eyeing him with disapproval.

"So it does not bother you that there's a another lady among us who is beautiful and skilled just as you are?" Thor asked, and Sif's eyes flashed at him.

"She spoke to you as if you were nothing! As if you were a commoner! Does that not bother you?"

Thor shrugged, taking another drink of his own ale. "I found her more strange than anything."

Suddenly, Fandral's hand gripped Thor's arm as it had earlier, and he half-gasped, "Look, look - she's here."

Indeed she was, gracefully walking through the entrance and looking even more amazing than Fandral had remembered. Gone was her armor and trousers and in their place was a dress, dark green with accents of black throughout, daringly strapless with a bodice that enhanced a chest that needed no help being remarkable. A fur-trimmed golden cloak hid her shoulders and arms from view, trailing on the floor along with the skirt of her dress that boasted of several high slits that gave glimpses of those strikingly long legs and the black boots that carried them.

She smirked with lips now painted a deep red as she made her way to their table, and Thor tried to tug his arm away to no avail. Fandral whispered to Thor, "Do you believe in love at first sight, Thor?"

"Would this not be second sight?" Thor replied. "Let go of my arm."

"If i do I fear I will fall from my seat, and not because of the ale I've consumed. She is perfect."

Sif covered her face with her palm, and Thor forced Fandral to let go of his arm just as the lady approached. Fandral swiftly stood to his feet and gave the lady am unnecessary but extremely respectful bow.

"Thank you for once again gracing us with your presence, my lady," he said before grasping her hand and laying a kiss on it. She allowed the action, unlike how she'd spurned Thor's similar actions earlier.

"I hope I didn't keep you men waiting," she replied, smiling as he reluctantly let go of her hand.

"Of course not. Come, sit with us," he said, motioning for her to sit between himself and Thor. "May I take your cloak for you?"

Sif fought to not roll her eyes, then had to fight to not let her jaw drop when the lady shed her cloak and handed it to Fandral. Her dress was positively scandalous.

Fandral's eyes burned with determination to not gawk like an adolescent boy at the almost ridiculous amount of cleavage staring up at him, but to his eternal pride, he managed to control himself as he hurried to toss her cloak on the closest rack he could find.

Thor didn't have such self-control, however, and stared openly as she slid next to him. Sif sipped her ale sullenly, quite sure that the woman's assets weren't even real - there were sorcerers in other provinces who performed 'enhancements' on women who desired them. She thought this lady was surely one of them.

"Not to speak out of turn, but I expected better manners from the future King of Asgard," the lady said, eyeing Thor with disdain as his eyes finally snapped back up to hers. The Prince flushed as Fandral finally came back, sitting on the lady's other side.

"Perhaps," Sif said before Thor could stutter out an apology, "you should expect nothing less when you dress yourself in such a fashion around men."

"Oh?" the lady raised an eyebrow, smirking. "So I should dress myself in men's clothing, as you do? Would that make me worthy of your respect?"

"I do not wear -"

"Ladies, ladies," Fandral chuckled nervously. "Please, let us not fight. We are here to drink and laugh and have a good time, not quarrel and bicker."

"Indeed," Thor agreed. "And I do apologize, my lady - I was merely only admiring that odd necklace of yours."

The lady laughed softly, leaving no room for doubt that she didn't believe him for a second. Her fingertips rose to trace the necklace, a golden chain from which a diamond and emerald-studded serpent pendant laid, and she said, "Yes, it is rather odd, isn't it?"

Sif then bit back a groan as the talk of the necklace gave Thor and Fandral another excuse to gawk at her chest. She set down her mug and said, "If nobody minds, I shall take my leave now."

She left the table without another word, and Thor watched her go in confusion. The as-yet unnamed lady glanced at Thor and said, "Should you not go after her, my Prince?"

"Hmm? Oh," Thor muttered. "Yes, I suppose so. I do not know why she is upset."

"Oh, please," the lady scoffed. "I've only just met all of you today and the reason is obvious even to myself why she is upset."

"You should go after her," Volstagg agreed, picking through his curly beard for further sustenance. "I shudder to remember the last time she was angry for longer than a day. She broke my axe!"

Thor nodded, then stood up and went to go find Sif and calm her down. Meanwhile, Fandral was anything but calm.

"I believe I owe you a drink," the lady said, turning sparkling eyes to Fandral and gracefully rising to her feet. He followed, smiling, and set after her as she walked to the bar.

He stayed a step behind on purpose, just to watch her hips sway. "And then your name, yes?"

"Do you doubt my word?"

"Entirely," he laughed.

She shot him a playful look over her shoulder. "Good."

Then they were at the bar, and he eyed the delicate features of her face as she ordered... something. He didn't know and didn't care what they drank, and at this point, he didn't particularly care what they spoke about either. At the present moment, he wanted to run his fingers through her silky black hair and see if it felt as soft as it looked.

"For as experienced as your reputation claims you to be, you are looking at me as if you haven't seen a women in decades," she observed, handing him a goblet.

He took it, glancing down briefly to see dark wine swirling inside. "That, my lady, is because I've not seen a woman like you in decades. And certainly not one as daring and fiery... and beautiful."

The lady sipped her own wine, asking casually, "Does Lady Sif not hold your interest?"

"Sif? Oh, no," Fandral said quickly. "When we first met, perhaps - but I learned early on where her interest would always lie."

"You do seem to be more perceptive than the Prince," she mused. "What of the younger Prince? Why have I not seen him in your group?"

"I believe he was otherwise engaged today," Fandral shrugged. "You should be glad - you would have had one more drooling fool nipping at your heels."

She laughed. "I would have managed."

"Where did you learn how to fight?"

She took a long sip before replying, and he followed suit. "I have an older brother who has taught me since I was a child. But it is not my only talent."

Fandral grinned and nearly made a suggestive comment in reply before she made a lazy motion with her free hand, and his goblet refilled itself. He looked down at the replenished wine and laughed. "Oh, thank the fates that Loki isn't here. I would not be able to peel him off of you!"

She chuckled, and his eyes trailed down to her leg as it peeked out between one of the slits in her skirt. He almost had to bite his lip,

"I have to say, I admire your effort."

His gaze snapped to hers and he replied, "My what?"

"Your effort to maintain a conversation with me, as if you were respectable gentleman, when I know full well that you are nothing of the sort."

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn't know whether to argue with her or wholeheartedly agree.

"It's all right," she smirked at his confusion, draining her wine and then adding, "I've no use for a gentleman tonight."

She then set the glass down and turned, hair flipping behind her back as she sauntered off in a decidedly different direction than their table. He stared at her until she stopped, glanced over her shoulder and asked with a devilish grin, "Are you coming?"

He propelled himself so quickly in her direction that he nearly tripped over his own feet.

He knew all of the nooks and crannies of this particular pub, and apparently so did she - she weaved her way through other patrons until she happened upon a small hallway, at the end of which sat a little room, empty save for a few cleaning supplies. She slipped into it first, and his heart started pounding in his ears as he looked around before walking in after her.

He closed the door behind him and the little closet was pitch black for a moment, until a little ball of light suddenly appeared in the lady's hand and floated upwards, illuminating their faces in a flickering, soft light. They were so close - he hadn't realized it at first.

But then she stepped away, a grin forming on her lips as she extended one finger his direction, beckoning him to follow. "Don't be shy."

With those three words, Fandral snapped. He attacked her like he'd been dying to since he first laid eyes on her.

Their lips met in a kiss so furious and passionate that they both moaned at the contact. He pushed her against the wall with a loud thud and set his hands to exploring every inch of her that he could reach, while her fingers tangled harshly in his hair and gripped him as her tongue fought his for dominance. It was like their fight earlier, as brutal as it was a pleasure, and this time he was happy to let her win - for the moment - and push forward, making his back hit the opposite wall as she took over.

His hands gripped her hips, pulling them against his when she bit at his lip. He laughed and then reversed their positions again, slamming her against another wall as his hands ran upwards, up her sides until they reached the two enormous breasts barely contained by her dress. He had to break away and groan against her lips as he grasped them in his hands.

"Your beauty is unparalleled," he said, opening his eyes when he felt her hands cover his.

"Though I appreciate the sentiment," she said, using his hands to push down the bodice of her dress, "I told you, I've no need of a gentleman tonight."

With the fabric pushed down to the top of her waist, she now spilled freely into his hands, just a bit too large for him to contain in his grasp, and he let out a choked groan as he squeezed and then kissed her with a renewed frenzy. His hands kneaded, his thumbs worked at her soft peaks until they were hard and until she was moaning softly into his kiss, and then he broke away, kissing hungrily down her neck and chest until his mouth replaced one of his hands.

She clutched at his blonde hair, pulling at it as his tongue drew out more soft gasps from her lips. He didn't stop until he'd paid equal attention to each breast, working her up into a squirming, writhing frenzy, and he could have spent an hour pleasuring her just like that if left to his own devices. But she yanked on his hair when it became nearly too much and pulled him back up, crushing her lips against his and grinding her hips against the hardness they met.

One of his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her up, and her legs wrapped around his waist in response as he pinned her fully to the wall. He managed to groan between the bruising kisses, "I still do not know your name."

"Does it truly matter what it is?" her silky voice answered, looking up at him and rolling her hips lightly against his, deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt and trailing her fingers along each inch of flesh she exposed.

"Not at all," he chuckled before claiming her lips again, letting her get his shirt half-off before letting the hand that had never relinquished its hold on her breast finally let go and trail lower. His fingertips danced along the soft skin of her stomach, down until they reached her dress that was quite bunched at her waist, then bypassed the fabric to run along her thigh.

He had moved his mouth to her neck, where he was softly sucking and leaving marks for all to see later when his fingers ran over the flimsy silk that she wore under her dress. She held his hair tighter as he stroked her lightly, then wrenched him back up to kiss him hard as she strained into his touch. He almost wasn't expecting the hand that reached between them to return his torture.

Her touch broke his last piece of willpower, and he quickly slid his fingers under the silk and felt her fully, and she did the same to him, gripping him tightly under his pants as his touch brought out a shaky moan from her throat.

"You are skilled with your hands," she said against his lips, and he grinned and nipped at her lower lip.

"Not only my hands," he replied, making no effort to draw out her pleasure and moving his fingers quickly, urging her to do the same for him.

Her little sounds and the way she trembled with pleasure against him was his undoing, and he could feel his end swiftly approaching as she worked him damn near expertly. In fact, he was rather sure he'd never had a woman who knew so well what to do with her hand.

"Tell me your name and I'll gladly shout it to Valhalla," he panted against her ear, trailing his tongue underneath it down to her neck and then back up again.

"I can't say I remember it at this point," she chuckled in response, voice now nothing above a breathy whisper.

He didn't press further, grinning and kissing her as he quickened his pace one last time. She almost immediately tensed, her nails digging into his scalp and grip tightening as she clenched and cried out into his open mouth. He lost it then, seeing stars burst behind his eyes as he followed her off the edge, barely restraining himself from being loud enough to alert the entire pub to what they were doing.

Soft but loud pants of satisfaction filled the tiny room as they sagged against one another, taking a moment to collect themselves. Fandral straightened slightly and watched in fascination as the lady withdrew her hand and then waved it, between them. The air shimmered slightly, and then they were both rendered instantly clean and put together, even their hair settling down smoothly atop their heads.

He set her down on her feet and grinned. "A handy trick."

"Indeed," she said, straightening her dress as he fixed his clothes as well. She then wasted no time in opening the door and strolling out, head held high, and Fandral did his best to keep the smirk off of his face as he followed her back out to the pub.

When their table came back into view, Fandral was surprised to see Thor and Sif only just then also returning. Then again, how long had they actually been in that little closet? Perhaps it had felt much longer than it had been.

"Ah, where were we?" Thor bellowed as the group was reunited. Sif seemed slightly less agitated but still glared at the other lady present as she sat.

Fandral paid Sif no mind and sat first, then pulled the lady down to his lap. She didn't protest - in fact, she smirked at him as she placed an arm around his shoulders.

"Let us drink!" Volstagg announced. "None shall outdrink me this night!"

"Ha!" Thor laughed. "We shall see about that, my friend. Fandral," he grinned, turning to the man beside him and the lady on his lap, "you look merry."

"I think tonight will be a fantastic night," Fandral grinned, picking up a mug from the table and clinking it against Thor's in a self-congratulatory toast.

Thor grinned back, and the table then came to life, Thor's booming voice at the helm of it all. In the midst of this, Fandral turned to the lady on his lap and spoke into her ear, "I'll ask your name one last time."

"Oh, fine," she sighed, grinning. "I suppose you've earned it."

Sif glared as the lady leaned in close to Fandral, her lips brushing against his ear, out of sight, sending a shiver down his spine as she spoke in a seductively low whisper. "My name..."

Fandral listened intently, the merry look on his face freezing when that feminine whisper transformed into a sickeningly familiar, deeper voice, speaking two unthinkable words.

"... is _Loki_."

The light weight on his lap was suddenly much heavier. Sif gasped, and the entire table fell silent. His hand was no longer resting on a soft waist, but on a coat lined with leather.

Against his better judgement, he looked up. The absolutely gleeful smirk on Loki's face was the polar opposite of the sheer horror that had frozen him from the inside out.

"Surprise," Loki drawled.

The single spoken word seemed to break everyone's stupor. An unbelievably loud laugh charged out of Thor, Sif covered her mouth to keep from either shrieking in horror for Fandral or laughing, Volstagg choked on his ale and sputtered it all over Sif, and Hogun made an odd coughing sound, suspiciously similar to one that might cover up a laugh.

But Fandral was still in shock. He had... _they_ had...

_Oh no_.

His head was suddenly spinning, and he thought he might throw up. It must have showed, because Loki finally got off of his lap, then gave an obnoxious little bow to the table.

It was all a prank... and surely Loki was now going to happily inform them all of just how far he'd taken the little act.

"Brother, you've outdone yourself!" Thor said, still laughing, as Loki took a seat between him and the still-green Fandral. "No wonder 'the lady' wanted nothing to do with me - I should have known!"

"But you didn't," Loki pointed out, glancing back at Fandral, who was glaring at him.

"And neither did poor Fandral!" Thor said, leaning forward to look at the blonde. When he saw the look on his face, Thor's eyes suddenly widened, and he looked at Loki suddenly very seriously and asked, "You didn't - the two of you didn't -"

Loki knew his brother well enough to understand the unfinished question. "Oh, no, brother - what kind of debauched creature do you think I am?"

Relief washed over Fandral tenfold as it did Thor. He was still furious about the situation but at least nobody else would truly know of it. Though this didn't bode well for him either -Loki now forever held this over him.

Taking a deep breath, Fandral slammed his fist on the table and forced a smile on his face. "Well, no use in being sour over it. Good one, Loki."

And the laughs began anew, all around. The night continued on like that, with Loki enjoying a rare night as the celebrated one of the group, while Fandral caught every last look that the younger Prince sent his way. It appeared that Loki could not have been more thrilled to have gained a piece of eternal blackmail on one of Asgard's most noted warriors and ladies' men.

Meanwhile, Fandral merely drowned himself in ale, quite sad that the most beautiful, seductive, perfect woman he'd ever laid eyes on had actually sort of been a man the entire time.

* * *

Aemilia stared at Loki, open-mouthed and in a state of utter shock.

Loki grinned, unashamed and quite eager to hear her reaction to the story that he'd recounted in astoundingly descriptive detail.

He watched her face turn a lovely shade of red as she tried to form words. "Speechless, are we?"

"I... yes!" she finally said. "But he... you... um..."

"It was all quite... educational, really, and enlightening," Loki said, glancing up at the ceiling.

"Educational?"

"Of course," he shrugged. "Would you not learn new things if you found yourself in a similar situation in a male body?"

She blinked a few times, trying extremely hard to grasp bizarre nature of the story she'd just heard. "I... suppose so, but... did you... like it?"

"Strangely enough, I did enjoy myself," he replied. "But I enjoy much more having him in my debt. You never know when such a thing may prove useful in the future."

Aemilia was silent for a while then, seemingly in deep thought as she processed it all. Then, when she finally looked up at him again, she asked, "Can I see?"

"See what?"

"Your female form."

He grinned. "Of course."

And then, before her eyes, the beautiful man before her transformed into an equally beautiful woman. He was just as he'd described himself (herself?) - all exaggerated, sensual curves, luminous pale skin, enormous eyes and luscious lips, shapely legs that went on for days, and a headful of the most glorious silky black hair she'd ever seen.

"Well?" a feminine voice asked, the womanly version of the masculine voice that drove Aemilia wild. It was just as seductive, too.

"Well... I'm not one for insecurity, but I think I might be quite jealous," she replied.

An amused little giggle later, Loki's female form faded back into his natural one, and he rolled himself on top of the still-bewildered girl in his bed, grinning down at her before he kissed her. "You still seem unsure of what to think."

"Because I am!" she laughed. "Now I'm worried there's even more... odd things about you that I've yet to learn."

"Hmm," he murmured, laying a kiss on the corner of her mouth. "But isn't that all part of the fun? The mystery of the unknown?"

"If you say so," she giggled, catching his lips with hers. "But now I'm never going to look at Fandral the same. That was quite a cruel thing you did to the poor man."

Loki shrugged. "He survived."

"Is he a good kisser?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust at her own question, but with a smile.

"I'm better," Loki grinned in reply, before backing up his words with another kiss.

When he broke away after a moment, she asked hesitantly, "Should I know about this... mare story you mentioned?"

Loki's eyes narrowed at this, and he shook his head. "No."

"But..."

"No."

She raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said it was fiction?"

"It is," he said, "but my answer is still no."

She nodded, then hummed into his mouth as he kissed her again. She didn't press him for the story, nor for any other story for a long time after that - she'd surely heard quite enough of his stories for the time being.


End file.
